Macula Tamen Venia
by ohlookrandom
Summary: Because even Careers have their own demons to battle with.
1. Glimmer

_Macula Tamen Venia  
>flawed and forgiven<em>

* * *

><p><em>I don't believe in anything but myself<em>  
><em> I don't believe in anything but myself<em>

_How do I know if I'll make it through?_  
><em> How do I know? Where's the proof in you?<em>

* * *

><p>Glimmer is seven when her sister is reaped.<p>

She remembers when her sister's name is called, how her mother's grip tightens on her left hand while her father draws in a breath on the right. At seven, Glimmer is too young to fathom the expression on her father's face. Perhaps it is a mixture of pride and anguish- an expression that says, _that's my girl, you get them all_ and then whimpers _don't take her from me just yet, please please_.

But her parents say nothing of the sort, so when Glimmer says goodbye to her sister, her sister beams at her and says proudly, "Look out, 64th Hunger Games!"

Her sister never comes home. Glimmer asks where she is one day and her mother tells her that her sister is living happily in the Capitol with a boy she met. Glimmer isn't as stupid as everyone thinks, so when she stumbles across some old tapes of the 64th Hunger Games and sees her sister die from being poisoned by snake muttations, she's not surprised. In fact, she doesn't even confront her parents.

Instead, she trains. She's not quite as fast as the girls in her class, nor is she particularly skilled with any one weapon- but she's a jack of all trades, as a matter of fact. So she lets the other girls take their pick of weapons first when it comes to training, because she is secure in the knowledge that she is fairly proficient in all weapons. Except the bow and arrow, but she dismisses that as ancient, useless. What good would a bow and arrow do against a spear, a sword, a knife?

Glimmer trains hard, but never is she good enough to surpass her sister's legacy. Never is she good enough that it seems like her parents love her as Glimmer, not as Glimmer the younger sister who just happens to be the only daughter they have left. She is left with hand me down love, hand me down titles, a shadow of her sister's untimely departure. That is one thing she cannot adapt to. Or rather, it is one thing she will not adapt to.

At eighteen, she has had enough of being second best, of being runner-up. So when a thirteen year old is called to the stage, she shoots to her feet, yelling louder than any volunteer in the crowd. And it works. She strides confidently to the stage, blonde hair rippling in the coiffed ponytail. This is on her terms now; her sister was reaped, she had no choice but to go. _This _is Glimmer's choice. She is calling the shots. For once, Glimmer feels like a victor…

That is, until she looks to the side and sees her father's face, twisted in the expression that she remembers from all those years ago. Except now Glimmer knows that that is not pride, but anguish. It is the last look she ever sees on his face.

But Glimmer forgets the anguish and focuses on not being the runner-up again. This time, the stakes are higher. Being runner-up means death, and Glimmer is not quite willing to die. So she partners up with the Careers, as expected of course. She eyes Clove with some distaste; she doesn't quite trust the girl with knives. Cato she keeps her distance from; she senses that he will erupt and kill the person standing closest. Marvel is the Career she feels closest to, quiet, shrewd Marvel who excels in throwing spears.

She discovers quickly that she is not as fast as Clove, not as strong as Cato, not as smart as Marvel, and while usually that meant that she had room to adapt in District 1, out in the Arena it is a different game altogether. To her dismay, Glimmer notes that her weapons have all been taken and the bow and arrow is the only one left. At the risk of going weaponless, she reluctantly takes it from Marvel's hands and trudges after the triumphant Cato and Clove, feeling like she's been upstaged again in some way.

And then comes the tracker jackers. Glimmer wills herself to fight off the hallucinations, wills herself to adapt, to fight, to somehow free herself from the pounding in her head and the blood that is bubbling up in her throat. And yet, her body refuses to cooperate. Her legs feel like they are on a marionette string, jerking and flailing and now her arms are doing the same thing and it _hurts_ and Glimmer cannot scream and _oh, make it stop-_

She finally crumples to the ground, barely alive but still barely conscious of what is going on around her. She hears that Everdeen girl scrabble around, feels the bow being taken from her. _Good, take it, I preferred blades anyway_, her mind mutters. Then she feels herself being moved over, then feels excruciating pain as her fingers are broken, one at a time. She tries to scream, tries to call out for help, but there is no one around. Glimmer gives up, because she knows nobody will be coming to help her. Cato and Clove are gone. Marvel must have followed. So did that Mellark boy. And- her mind wanders-

And then she remembers- or maybe hallucinates- a conversation she vaguely heard when she was younger, in the room where her father is having his last conversation with her sister-

_"Take care of Glimmer. Don't let her know what's happened."_

"_I will. Stay safe in the Arena. Come home."_

_ "I'll do my best_."

She can't even cry. As her breaths grow shallower, as the poison seeps through her veins, Glimmer finds it ironic how she is dying the same way her sister did- by some unnatural creature that shouldn't have existed. She tries to open her bloody lips, tries to say something that the camera will catch and let her parents know that she- that she what? Glimmer is thrown into confusion as the seconds count down to the end of her life.

As the world begins to fade away, as she hears screaming from beyond, as she feels a hand touch her cheek and Marvel's barely audible voice bellowing in anger, Glimmer has one last final thought:

_I came in second again today. _Her lips twitch into a bitter smile. _Second to Katniss Everdeen. _

But at least, she figures, she will be escaping all this carnage. All this killing. Maybe that's a victory in itself.

And so Glimmer, the tribute from District 1, breathes her last as the cannon sounds.

* * *

><p>"soldier", ingrid michaelson<p> 


	2. Marvel

_Macula Tamen Venia  
>flawed and forgiven<em>

* * *

><p><em>This one's for the lonely<br>The ones that seek and find  
>Only to be let down<br>Time after time_

* * *

><p>Marvel hates being alone.<p>

He blames it on being the only child in the family- his younger brother died when Marvel was five years old, and his older brother disappeared when he was eight. His mother is a woman who has an awful, awful high-pitched laugh and his father- well, his father is just never around to see his son grow up.

So Marvel learns to fend for himself (because who is really going to take care of him anyway?) and at eleven he walks up to the training school and enrolls himself in training. His parents either don't know, or they just don't care.

In the moments when he's alone, he still wishes he could protect his brothers. Or someone. Anyone. It feels like a vacuum in his house when he comes home from school and training, because his mother is laughing at nothing and his father is simply never there. Sometimes, it just feels like he's a dummy in the house. Useless. Like there is no one and nothing to live for.

Marvel hates to be alone, so there are nights when he just doesn't come home and trains all night at the training facility.

His first achievement comes at thirteen when he outsmarts the trainer in a game of hand-to-hand combat. At thirteen, Marvel is a scrawny teenager, all bones and arms that look like they would snap if he fell. He remembers that day, holds on to it- he remembers the boys and girls watching from the sidelines, smirking viciously as they watch him go up against the fiercest trainer in the center "for sport".

He remembers getting pummeled within an inch of his life, dodging but never dodging quite fast enough. And then he remembers with some satisfaction how he used the training mat to his advantage- while the trainer was baring down on him, he yanked the mat from under his opponent, dodged the predictable leap towards him, scissor kicked and ended up pinning his trainer under his knees.

And he remembers the deafening silence that follows this upset.

That day, Marvel learns that he may not be quite as athletically talented as the other boys. Even years later, when he's filled out and has girls knocking on his door every time he ventures out, he knows that the other boys are looking to best him in hand-to-hand combat. So he takes a different tactic. He begins to specialize in long-distance attacks. His right arm becomes notoriously strong as he begins to throw lethal, iron-tipped spears at targets, hitting them at least ninety percent of the time. He begins to grow in confidence as he begins to see the flaws in his opponent's attack strategies. He becomes a thinker, a ruthless, shrewd tribute who thinks as well as he fights-

-and still he hates to be alone.

So when his name is called for the 74th Hunger Games, Marvel has never felt so solitary in his entire life. He says nothing when his family and friends come in to say goodbye- there is nothing to say, because his mother laughs her breathy giggles and his father talks to him about the weather in the Capitol.

(He wonders sometimes if they actually do care, but then shakes the thought away. Thinking about his family makes him feel more alone than ever.)

Marvel hates being alone. It is part of the reason why he is not slow to accept the Career offer when Cato approaches him with that supremely arrogant smile. Marvel is okay with not being the leader. He doesn't like to be in the spotlight, anyway. He is content to let Cato lead them- not that he's always content with the way Cato seems eager to kill everyone- because he knows that he is smarter than all of them combined.

Of all the tributes in the Career alliance, Marvel likes Glimmer best. Cato is ruthless, and even Marvel flinches when Cato talks about what he will do to that Everdeen girl. Clove is dangerous and Marvel suspects that she is about as smart as he is- a dangerous ally, and an even more dangerous spy. The girl from District 4 is flaky and unbalanced, especially after her partner is killed in the bloodbath. And Peeta Mellark- Marvel just doesn't trust him, because he knows Peeta has something up his sleeve. Glimmer is something like himself, Marvel thinks, because she seems just as broken. Just as willing to escape the nightmares she must suffer in District 1.

He accepts the fact that they must either kill each other or be killed, so he hardens his heart and dives into the persona of a ruthless killer.

But then Marvel finds out that maybe he isn't quite as ruthless as he thinks he is. When he is crouched over Glimmer's corpse, yelling furiously at Cato for not realizing that Glimmer was not with them, he suddenly realizes that Glimmer is another person in a line of people he has lost. His mother, his father, his brothers, and now his district partner. Marvel is now more alone than ever.

That is why he breaks away from the alliance when the food stores get blown up. After Cato takes it out on the District 3 boy, Marvel decides he's had enough. He hates being alone, but he is smart enough to know that his time with the Careers is up. So he leaves when Clove and Cato are out hunting.

He sets out traps for defense, fingers deft from years of practice and training. And it doesn't take more than two hours before he hears a yelp and sees a small tribute in the net. The District 11 tribute, Rue.

It should have been a quick kill. Marvel steels himself, repeats _I am ruthless_ over and over and over again. The spear trembles in his hand as Rue continues to scream at the top of her lungs, begging and pleading for him to spare her. Marvel closes his eyes, weighing his options as Rue whimpers in a terrified voice.

He can almost imagine the audience back home, leaning forward in anticipation of the kill.

He can also see a family in District 11, closing their eyes in acceptance of Rue's death.

And then he hears it- a terrified voice screaming Rue's name over and over. Katniss Everdeen is coming, and Marvel's brain works overtime. He is smart enough to know that Katniss will kill him in a heartbeat. The logical thing to do is to kill her ally, then kill her as she comes. And just like that, Marvel is back in the saddle like a Career is trained to do.

(He pushes the thought of Rue's family out of his mind. What does he know of family? He's been alone his whole life.)

And yet, although his plan is laid out, although he is smart and shrewd and cunning, Marvel times it wrong. His spear flies from his hand just as Katniss rounds the corner, and like when he was thirteen, Marvel is not fast enough. Her arrow flies towards him, and then Marvel is down, choking and gasping as the blood drains from his neck.

The irony, he bitterly reflects, that he is dying alone with no one to hold him as he dies.

But before Marvel dies alone in a clearing with no loved ones around him, he thinks he sees a flash of golden hair and green eyes looking at him. And as his eyes begin to close, he thinks he sees two small boys with her. Glimmer looks at him, her eyes green with life.

_You're not alone_, she seems to say.

No, Marvel thinks, maybe he's not alone. Maybe this isn't so bad.

And so Marvel, the tribute from District 1, breathes his last as the cannon sounds.

"comes and goes (in waves)", greg laswell


	3. Clove

_Macula Tamen Venia  
>flawed and forgiven<em>

* * *

><p><em>You say you know love, but you are just reflecting words you hear.<br>No iron in your veins to give you any sense of pain or fear.  
>It's just another lie, it's just another calculation,<br>And when the power's out, we're just another old sensation._

* * *

><p>Clove prides herself on being emotionless.<p>

From a very young age in District 2, her trainers look at each other and nod knowingly as she rises through the ranks. At ten, she is so deadly accurate with her knives that they have to replace the dummies at least three times a year; after all, dummies with holes in their hearts hardly give other kids a chance to practice.

When she is eleven, Clove is feared and respected in the training center. The girls scatter when she approaches because they all know she keeps a knife in her boot, ready to throw at someone's head if they irritate her enough. The boys all leave little Clove alone, though they know better than to call Clove "little" if they would like to keep their necks intact.

The only person who doesn't seem to fear Clove is big and burly Cato, and between the pair, both rule the facility with an iron fist. They barely talk to one another, but there is an unspoken agreement to respect each other and not begin and fights between them.

When she turns twelve, Clove begins to stay in the facility training till at least seven at night because she wants to avoid home. Home, where a drunkard father and cowardly mother live. Home, where Clove truly feels little and unimportant enough. She tells the trainer that she stays later because she wants to be ready to win the Hunger Games, but she always abruptly changes the subject when it gets too touchy for her.

When she is thirteen and is not chosen for the Games, Clove goes home in a silent rage. Her father is waiting for her, bottles of liquor practically sloshing out of his nose and ears as he sarcastically raises an empty bottle to her. "To Clove," he drones, "winner of the _Hunger Games_!" He chortles as he swigs the whiskey down. "Face it, darling, you're never going to be good enough to win."

Clove stares her father down in a silent rage, but he ignores her.

When Clove hits fourteen years old, her father begins to beat her with anything he can lay his hands on. Sticks, fists, chairs, silverware, stones- Clove especially hates being beaten with a stone and fights back all the harder, but what can a five foot four girl do against a six foot two man? She pummels, scratches, kicks, does the fancy tricks that her trainers taught her in the facility- but her father is always ready to answer, always ready to hit back harder than Clove can.

People stare at her when she limps into the facility day after day, eye purple with a blossoming bruise and red patches appearing on her neck and cheek. It becomes rare to see Clove unblemished at the facility. Eventually, they stop staring, because Clove simply stares coldly back at them, challenging them to say something. Anything. Even Cato drops his gaze when he meets Clove's unflinching green eyes, because something in them demands that their pity be turned away. Clove hates pity. She especially hates being seen as weak.

When she turns fifteen, she comes home to find her father in his drunken rage. Her mother is lying senseless on the floor, head split open and blood staining the stone floor; her father is storming around the house, shouting some insensible nonsense about how his whiskey was spiked. He grabs Clove by the hair, drags her into the kitchen and begins slamming her head against the wall, shouting insults that make Clove's blood boil as she weighs her options.

She doesn't know how she does it, but she manages to twist out of her father's chokehold and ram her knife into his stomach. And as he staggers back, eyes wide and clutching his stomach, Clove experiences the first rush of adrenaline that accompanies a kill. An accidental kill, no doubt, but a kill nonetheless.

She coldly tells the Peacekeepers that it was self-defense, and they have no choice but to agree. Her father has a reputation that precedes him.

When she is sixteen, Clove volunteers for the Hunger Games. Her mother is not present to stop her from volunteering, and Clove feels her blood spike when Cato immediately volunteers beside her. Although they both know they will have to eventually kill each other, they know that they are in a tight alliance now. It has become District 2 against everyone else- for now.

Clove hates the alliance that Cato forms. She surveys her fellow Careers with an internal sneer and a neutral, blank façade on her face- she hates Glimmer because she thinks Glimmer is an airhead, she hates Marvel because he is incapable of doing anything except _think_, she hates the District 4 girl because she can barely stop sobbing about her pathetic excuse of a dead district partner, she hates District 3 because he snivels all the time and Peeta Mellark- she hates him with a passion because he has something up his sleeve and she can't figure out what.

But she remains emotionless and painfully sadistic. It is easier, she reasons silently in her head, to keep that up. It makes killing her fellow teenagers so much easier.

So when Glimmer dies and Marvel is shouting at Cato in anger, Clove leans against the tree, almost bored to bits as she absently washes the last of the tracker jacker stings. "Get over it," she snaps when Cato moves towards Marvel with an infuriated expression on his face. "We have other things to worry about."

She doesn't feel pity for Marvel when he turns to her, anger written all over his features. Instead, she casts a glare in his direction and moves to walk after Cato, fingering a knife the whole way.

She doesn't get angry, either, when the food supplies get blown up. As Cato is hopping around screaming in anger and finally snapps the District 3 boy's neck, Clove remains awfully cold as she moves to soothe Cato. "Calm down," she says, as Marvel warily approaches Cato from the left. "They're dead."

He whirls on her and she raises an eyebrow, challenging him to take another step towards her as her hand goes to her knife. Cato takes a breath as Marvel outlines his own logical argument for why they should wait for nightfall before going to find the bomber, and Clove rolls her eyes and begins walking away from them. She almost wishes that they could split up. It would make planning to kill them a lot faster.

When Marvel leaves, Clove feels nothing but satisfaction. She knows that Marvel is smart, but not fast enough to avoid getting killed. _One less for me to worry about. _And she's right when she sees his face in the sky a few nights later. Cato sniffs haughtily, making a comment about how Marvel is a pathetic excuse for a Career- but Clove says nothing, keeping her own private thoughts to herself.

Yes, she prides herself on being emotionless. At least externally.

When the Gamemakers announce a feast, Clove takes her time in agreeing to go to the Feast with Cato. She nods when he outlines the plan, knowing that she will have to stay a step ahead of Cato if she is going to win these Games. Her face betrays no other emotion as he talks about how they will eliminate the District 5 pest, Katniss Everdeen and Thresh all at once.

They miss the District 5 girl, but Clove is on Katniss at once when the girl on fire accidentally takes too long in grabbing a pack. She expects this to be easy, expects this encounter to be dragged out on _her _own terms because Katniss is inexperienced. She is ruled by emotions, and Clove is not. So Clove expects this to be a satisfying and show-worthy kill, because all her kills have been. This is her terms. Her battlefield. Her victory.

Which is why when Katniss spits in her face defiantly, Clove is taken aback. Nobody has ever stood up to her before, and she is reminded of how helpless she felt against her father. That is when she feels the first familiar stirrings of anger in her head, the first faint call of drums pounding in her brain. So she snarls words that she doesn't mean, hoping to hit back at Katniss verbally-

-and then suddenly she is thrust back into the event a year earlier as she is forcibly removed from her victim. Thresh is suddenly there, choking her like her father did, beating her like her father did with a stone. And Clove remembers how much she hates stones- ironic because she lives in the district of Masonry.

For the first time in at least ten years, Clove lets her emotions get the better of her. As her world reels, collapses, crumbles after Thresh pounds her with the rock, she screams like she's never screamed before. It is as though she is screaming for all the beatings she endured, the beatings her mother never talked about, the father who never loved her the way he should. And the pain continues to wind its way through her head down to her back, down to her legs and fingers and it hurts so much.

She screams for Cato, desperate and pleading and choked with fear as she feels her life slipping away from her. The memories are all jumbled in her head now, of her father saluting her with an empty bottle, of a mother shrouded in shadows, of a girl on fire who destroyed everything Clove has worked for, of the monster she has become. And as Clove begins to choke on her own breaths, she begins to cry the tears she never cried.

The emotions begin to overwhelm her, even as Cato skids to a stop next to her and threatens that she had better stay with him _or else_. She tries to reach out for him, tries to tell him that she wants him to win, tries to tell him that she's sorry for- for- for not being a friend… and Clove's last thought is _As if I know what a friend is_…

She never gets to say it. But Clove feels the regret and the pain throbbing in her chest as the world goes black. She cries knowing that the girl with a heart of stone is dying a weakling.

And so Clove, the tribute from District 2, breathes her last as the cannon sounds.

* * *

><p>"rules", jayme dee<p> 


	4. Cato

_Macula Tamen Venia  
>flawed and forgiven<em>

* * *

><p><em>I'm gonna hide my heart behind the peacock's fan,<br>And keep my friends real close, yeah, this is how it's gonna go.  
>I'm gonna find my knife and run it through those stitches,<br>Throw my friends down in the ditches before they even know what I've come here for. _

* * *

><p>Cato is the most feared boy in District 2.<p>

He knows it, and takes great pride in it. When he is ten, his trainer first mistakes him for a seventeen year old boy and puts him through an entire day of training built for the older and more muscular boys. But Cato does not complain, and no one spots the mistake until his father arrives to take Cato home and is startled to find his son training with the seventeen and eighteen year olds.

When he mentions it to the trainer, the trainer stares in abject surprise at the burly ten year old, who is already a hefty five foot six inches tall. "I'm sorry," he stutters, "I didn't realize. He was just doing so well!"

It's true. Cato handles the speed course with agility and dispatches the strength training with a fair amount of ease. He's not like the scrawny ten year olds who get brought into the training center. The only thing that separates Cato and highlights him as being younger than the rest of the older boys is the weapons display. He's not as used to the broadswords or sai-swords that pepper the rack- in fact, the first day at training he is beaten in a duel in ten seconds flat.

But this does not deter him. In fact, Cato works harder than most boys. His father agrees to let him train in the older division, and soon Cato is hard at work learning how to properly wield a sword. Yet the older boys have a hard time discounting him as a force to be reckoned with, especially when he overpowers them with sheer strength as he pins them to the ground and simply- well, he simply _sits _on them. It takes great skill to dislodge Cato.

As a twelve year old, Cato's name is called for the reaping. But before he can make it up to the stage, another burly eighteen year old volunteers before anyone can react. Cato scowls, but subsides. He'd rather the extra year of training, anyway. Just to make sure that he'll win when _he _goes for the games.

The boy dies on the fourth day of the Games from an unfortunate collision with an axe wielded by District 7. Cato's scowl deepens at the pathetic way the boy dies, and vows to train harder.

Cato is not unaccustomed to hard work. All his life, he's been striving for something better than he could manage. It is why he did not back down from the training when he was ten, it is why he never flinches when his father bellows in his face during their private training sessions. Mercy and grace to Cato becomes an alien concept, something only given to the trainees who collapse during their fifteenth lap around the track, something only given to those who are weak. It is why he does not ever let up when he is fighting in a practice round with fellow trainees, and why they go home with broken noses and ribs.

His father takes him aside one day after another Reaping and takes him to the backyard, where he hands him a sword. "Practice your sword skills," he orders.

Cato begins to protest that his sword skills are the best in the district-

"Practice anyway," his father says drily in response. So Cato gives up protesting and lunges forward, sword flashing in the bright sun- but his father parries, and with a swift twist dislodges Cato's sword from his hand. "Sloppy. Practice!"

That day, Cato learns that mercy is never given in a battle, even when the battle is between a father and a son with sharp-edged swords.

His father is a mason, his mother a former District 2 victor. Between the two, he learns the finer points of battle: Never relinquish control. Always keep fighting. The least honorable death is to give up without battling back. Mercy is useless, and it will get you killed. Strength and brutality will keep you alive. Cato comes to understand that if he wants something, he will have to fight to get it. His father drills it into his head: _Hit them hard and they won't hit back. _

And after Cato learns that lesson, nobody in the facility dares challenge him.

His philosophy in battle leaks over into the way he handles other people. It shows in the way he pulls the Career alliance together. Marvel, Glimmer and Clove follow him easily enough- though he has his reservations about Clove, since he has heard her reputation of being awfully fast with those knives- but District 4 poses a problem off the bat. Both tributes appear to be friends and both are split about the alliance- the male is cautious about joining, the female thinks it's a better idea. And in the end, the District 4 girl is the one who follows her partner's wishes and declines the offer.

But Cato gets his way, as always, when he trips the District 4 boy at the Cornucopia and drives the sword into his back. And from that point on the District 4 girl is solely in his alliance and no one else's.

Cato continues to exert his control over the group and makes sure to assert his dominance whenever he can. He shows no mercy when Glimmer complains about being tired, and almost kills Marvel when Marvel turns on him in a fit of anger. Clove is the only one who soothes him instantly, but he knows that she too is biding her time till she can kill him.

Cato wants to win at all costs, so he has absolutely even less room for mercy than usual. When the food supplies are accidentally blown up, he turns on the District 3 boy in anger. He sees it then- the look of terror reflected in the other boy's eyes as he turns to run- and his temper flares as he realizes that the boy in front of him is ruled by fear and doesn't deserve to live. _Survival of the fittest. Hit them hard enough, and they won't hit back. No room for mercy. _The District 3 boy isn't even going to fight back.

So he snaps the boy's neck. Quick, merciless, just the way Cato likes it.

But things begin to unravel when Clove is killed at the Feast. As Cato cradles his partner's dying body, he experiences doubt for the first time in a long time. He begins to wonder if he really can win this, if he can really come back to his parents and hear his mother and father tell him that they are proud of him. This isn't how he wants it. Clove isn't supposed to die so soon.

But she dies anyway, and for the first time in a long time, Cato feels as though he has failed in some way.

When the mutts finally corner him by the Cornucopia, Cato feels his heart pound in a way that it never has before. It takes him a moment as he's slashing at a mutt (is that _Glimmer_?) to recognize the feeling as fear. He has never really had to fear anything ever, so as he backs up and feels his sword waver a second too long, Cato knows that he is done for the moment a small black mutt leaps for him.

They have no mercy, and Cato does not enjoy being on the receiving end of the brutality. He fights back- oh, how he fights back- and hits as hard as he can, but the mutts hit harder still.

Finally, they leave. It feels like forever as Cato is lying there, completely mangled by the mutts as he feels his life inch slowly away from his body. He tries desperately to find a way to fight back against this, find a way to beat what he is experiencing- but his body only screams in pain as does his mind.

To his shame, Cato finally gives in. He looks at the pitying gaze of Katniss Everdeen, and whispers only one word. "_Please_."

He hopes his parents do not see him give in. The last thing he wants to do is to disappoint his parents. But this is the only way, right? The only way to let go, to escape? This is the only way, Cato reassures himself, to beat death. His mouth quirks up in an ironic smirk as he realizes that mercy is the only reason why he is able to escape the pains of dying. The very thing he eschewed is the one thing that will kill him once and for all.

The arrow flies towards him, and Cato closes his eyes. He is getting his way, after all.

And so Cato, the tribute from District 2, breathes his last as the cannon sounds.

* * *

><p>"take the heartland", glen hansard<p> 


End file.
